Shadows
by SgtMac
Summary: Still reeling from the heartbreaking loss of Henry, Regina finds herself reluctantly drawn to Roland and his father, and when the little boy goes missing, she teams up with Robin to ensure that he doesn't have to suffer the same pain that she has. Three-parter. Pre-Outlaw Queen.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** A wee three-part prompt originated over on Tumblr (sgtmac7). Enjoy!

* * *

Thanks to almost thirty years of absence from this wretchedly simplistic realm, Regina finds that she'd forgotten just how drafty it tends to get around a castle in the middle of winter. With all the walls made of thick stone and the wide-open spaces without glass to buffer the cold, it can get frigid once the sun set behind the mountains.

Sighing loudly and with her mind spinning rapidly as it always does, the woman once known as the Evil Queen (now, she's simply known around to those willing to accept the name change as the Queen, and she finds that she's still getting used to that even though it's certainly a change for the better) sweeps down the darkened hallway, her darkly feathered cloak pulled tight around her frame.

She finds herself wishing desperately for a nice hot and hopefully relaxing bath to chase away the chill of the night (and the anxiety of the unknown which continues to burn in her gut), but as much as some things have turned to be the same (the royals and nobles have once again assumed control and command of the land) since returning to the Enchanted Forest, some things have not.

Servants, for instance.

There are none.

Apparently, none of the returnees from Storybrooke have much of a desire to once again drop down on bended knee and promise that they will allow themselves to willingly be treated like glorified waiters for the rest of their lives.

Not initially, anyway.

The truth is that these are the early days of the new reign - the new combined rule between she and her former stepdaughter and Prince Charming - and things are still quite unsettled and complicated. They all want to respect that thirty years spent in a relative democracy has left many unwilling to return to a way of life where they'd been little more than chess pieces for spoiled royals.

Even Snow is starting to realize just how well off she'd been – even on the run.

Regina grudgingly supposes that she somewhat kind of understands their reluctance to return to bakers and street peddlers and even handmaidens. But this isn't Storybrooke, and people can't just refuse to be useful simply because they don't want to. Sooner or later, everyone will have to slot into some kind of job. As of right now, the cooking and the cleaning are being handled by one-off volunteers (and some magic), but that's led to confusion and uncertainty about roles. As that inevitably grows, the cries for some kind of order are sure to get louder. In the end, there is always a need for a degree of structure.

She's turning these unnerving thoughts over in her troubled mind (it's always troubled these days, whether by thoughts of the past, of her son or of her half-sister who seems to think that her younger sibling had had such a wonderful life all while being the puppet of Rumple and Cora) - and the bigger issues of how to speak to Snow about all of this (and how to get her to understand that it's come time to push people to actually accept that they're home and they need to adapt) - when the sound of shuffling footsteps behind her gets her attention. What really catches her interest, though, is how incredibly soft the footfalls are.

Softer than any adult should be able to make.

She spins around and peers down the hallway lit only by torches.

And then she smiles when she sees who it is standing there, his dark inquisitive eyes peering curiously back at her out of the shadows. "Roland," she says gently as she gazes at the dimpled four year old. "What are you doing, dear?"

"I'm following you," he tells her, his words garbled in the way reminds her just how young he actually is. She watches in silence as he strides towards her, apparently completely unaware of the threat of approaching a woman of her power so brazenly. His little arms swing back and forth and he moves with the kind of careless confidence that only an innocent child can have.

It reminds her a whole lot of -

She stops herself short, swallows back a hard lump, and focuses on Roland.

Only on Roland.

"Why are you following me?" she asks as she takes a step towards him.

"I'm lost," he allows with the careless shrug of a child, and she notices with some surprise that he doesn't seem overly concerned about this fact. "Too many hallways and they all look the same."

"Indeed there are and they do. I've gotten lost a time or two as well. Where's your father?"

"Probably looking for me," he admits. "With that face he has."

"That face he has?"

Roland makes a face of his own to show her what he means and it's the most absurd and comical thing that she thinks she's ever seen – it rather looks like what Robin might look like if he was badly constipated and trying to sneeze.

She laughs. "I see. Well, I'm sure that he's quite worried about you."

"Probably not."

Her eyebrow lifts. "And why's that?" she asks, her tone sharp and high like she's actually disturbed that anyone could be unworried about their child missing.

She is. Perhaps she's a little bit angry, too.

She takes a deep heaving breath and pushes those feelings back down and away because he's just a little boy and he doesn't understand the demons in her mind any better than Henry –

No. No. No.

"I get lost a lot. In the forest," Roland replies, pulling her back to him.

"Do you now?" she asks, her voice a bit shaky. Thankfully, he doesn't notice.

"I like to explore. And climb trees."

"You're four."

"And three quarters. Which makes me five."

"Yes, well Roland-Who-Is-Almost-Five-But-Not-Quite, there are many places that you can get terribly lost in inside of this castle in, but if you go right back down that hallway over there, you should arrive at your father's room promptly."

"Okay," he says, frowning in a way that is entirely too adorable to be real. The thing is, though, it is real. Because as much as he is too young to understand the darkness in her mind, he's also too innocent to play games with her for sport.

He's almost five and there are no lies within this boy. Which makes him dangerous to her in a way that frightens her more than she cares to admit.

So she smiles at him and then turns away. And takes a step down her own hall.

And hears him do the same.

So she takes another. And then so does he.

She turns back. "Roland?"

He offers her a toothy grin, but she sees something that looks a bit like fear in his eyes. A glance behind him and she notices just how dark the hallway is.

If she were the sort to do so – and she's not – she'd slap herself in the forehead.

How had she missed his likely fear of the shadows, she wonders? Would she have expected four-year-old Henry to walk back down a dark corridor alone?

Not a fair question, she tells herself.

But it is and the answer is still no.

She sighs. "Would you like me to walk back with you?"

He nods his head almost urgently and then before she can change her mind, he reaches out for her hand and clasps it in his much smaller one, and all she can think is that isn't any kind of fair at all. Roland is so very sweet and loving and trusting and he makes her heart hurt and ache with the need to see her own son again, but it's impossible to turn away from the light she sees in this boy's eyes.

"Did you live here growing up?" he asks as they walk. "In this castle?"

"Not this one," she replies as warmly as she can; thinking about her youth is a mixed box and while there were good times spent with her father, much of that has been tainted so badly by the memories of her mother that sometimes it's difficult to enjoy even a few happy recollections. "A different one to the west."

"Was it cold there, too?"

"It was occasionally, yes."

He nods like he understands. "Did you ride horses? Papa won't let me yet."

She bites her tongue at her first immediate response - something sarcastic that he wouldn't understand, anyway, and then replies with, "Yes, I rode horses."

"I like horses."

"Me, too."

"Maybe you can convince my Papa that I'm old enough now."

She laughs at that. "Not yet, but be patient. You will be old enough too soon."

It's just then - as they're making the turn that will lead them to the wing where many of the refugees from Storybrooke (as well as Robin and his men) are being housed until other arrangements can be decided upon - that she sees Robin and Little John come flying down the hallway, both of them looking quite frantic.

"Roland!" Robin calls out. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

"Hi, Papa."

"I found your son," Regina says unnecessarily.

"So I see. Found the one hallway I hadn't yet checked, did you?"

Roland nods happily, like he's thrilled to have given his father the slip.

"He's four," Regina reminds him, fixing him with a glare.

"Almost five," Roland inserts.

"Yes," Regina allows, unable to stop her expression from melting into a smile.

"John, will you take him in to get ready for bed?" Robin asks as he glances quickly back at the Queen. He's only known this woman for a short time, but he's already learned to recognize a few of the emotions that he's just witnessed.

"Right," the big man says as he sweeps down and picks Roland up. He gives Regina a look meant to remind her how unimpressed with her he is, and she answers it with a smirk and a rubbing of her fingers together. It's a completely asshole move, of course, but she has no patience for his dislike of her right now.

He's hardly unique in it, and besides, she has an infuriating archer to yell at.

Ignorant of the icy glares going back and forth between the Queen and his godfather and the bemused look on his papa's face, Roland says, "Goodnight, Your Majesty." Unable to properly annunciate at his age, he trips mercilessly over the words and making them sound more like an insult than an honorific.

So of course, she chuckles. "Regina is just fine for you, dear. And goodnight."

He smiles at that, and she has to force her heart from wanting to react because that way – opening it up again – can only lead to more pain and hurt and loss.

The moment the door closes behind John and Roland, she turns to Robin. "You let your son just wander around aimlessly without any kind of supervision?"

"He likes to adventure."

"You're his father. It's your job to make sure that he doesn't…adventure."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because he can get lost. This isn't terribly complicated. Or perhaps it is."

He simply smiles at her barb. "You let the free spirits out when they want to be."

"You're his father," she says again, far more insistent.

"I know I am. And we do what's right for our children, Regina."

"I didn't give _you_ permission to call me that," she growls.

He laughs. "Of course not, Your Majesty." He inclines his head in a way meant to be gracious. "Thank you for bringing my boy back to me. He quite likes you."

"You know he shouldn't," she says softly, her voice thick with a kind of bitterly dark emotion and suffocating pain that he can't even really begin to imagine even with him understanding the ache of loss as he well as he unfortunately does. "I'm not who you should be allowing him to be around," she finishes.

"You're no threat to him. To me, perhaps, but not him."

"No, I suppose not." She meets his eyes for a moment, and then brings the walls back up and lifts her chin. "Go. I'm sure your son is expecting you."

"I'm sure he is. Are you all right?"

She snorts derisively at this. "Be with your boy; there's never enough time."

And then, before he can reply with anything that might make it seem like they're actually getting along or he that he doesn't completely annoy her, she turns and sweeps back down the dark hallway, disappearing into the shadows again.

**TBC...**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**: Part 2 of 3 (I hope). Thanks for all of the kind words. Enjoy!

* * *

He's waiting for her in the darkened hallway the next night, already in his white nightshirt and sporting a toothy smile like this is some kind of secret game of theirs and they both know it. He's standing just beneath one of the torches so light flickers and plays off his bronze cheeks.

"Hi," he says, his cheeks dimpling.

"Roland, are you lost again?" she asks as she strides up to him, her purple cloak swaying around her. She glances around for his father, but isn't all that terribly surprised to see him not around. Robin has a decidedly free way of thinking when it comes to his son, but all the same, it's hard to imagine that he could have lost sight of his child on back-to-back nights.

Unless he's playing some kind of absurd game with her.

No, she tells herself, that's just her usual paranoia playing games with her.

"Yes," the little boy replies, shrugging his shoulders.

He seems entirely too happy and unconcerned about his answer so she counters with a lifted eyebrow and, "Really? Are you really lost?"

"No," he admits, and his smile grows. She thinks she sees his eyes twinkle.

As easy as it would be to give into his playful attitude, she forces herself to take on a harsher demeanor with him. He's just a child and despite what the archer thinks, he should not be roaming around this castle on his own.

Especially not with Zelena somewhere out there.

"Why are you here, dear?" she asks, her hands settled on her hips.

If he notices the coldness of her approach, he shows no sign of it. "So you can walk me home," he tells her as he glances back down the dark hallway. She wonders if that darkness had even occurred to him on the way here.

"Home," she repeats almost inaudibly and thinks about how this place could never be home without Henry being here.

"To my papa."

"Yes, your papa. Does he know where you are tonight?"

Roland nods his head, and he smiles again. She thinks about asking him not to do that, but figures that he'd just look at her in confusion. Because he's a child and though he certainly has learned how to wrap people around his fingers with those dimples of his, there's clearly no malicious intent to it.

He is here – as Robin had said – because inexplicably, he likes her.

Preposterous, of course, but it's a hard conclusion to fully ignore or avoid.

"And he just let you come here?" she asks, her voice rising in pitch.

"Yup."

She almost demands to know why Robin would do such a thing, but again stops herself from voicing her thoughts because though Roland is naively decided that he likes and trusts her for whatever youthful reason, it's quite unlikely that he understands why his father is so idiotic as to do the same.

This Robin Hood is really starting to irritate her.

She smiles at Roland and then offers her hand. He takes it immediately and then takes a step down the hallway, pulling her along with him. "We had fish for dinner," he tells her. "It was better than the fish we usually have."

"Better pond," she tells him, which is a simplistic way of saying that now that they've retaken the castle, they have access to fresh water streams that house several tasty types of fish. What Robin and his people probably fed on was some of the lesser breeds that tended to make their way up in the streams and rivers of the neighboring forest. Disgusting, really.

She thinks maybe she'll tell Robin that.

On the other hand, that would require them to actually have a full conversation, and she has no desire to spend much time around the man. He's already seen too much of her thanks to having been her sole companion for when she'd retaken the castle. He remains - to this day - the only one that knows that she had tried to place a sleeping curse on herself.

She reminds herself that she'd paid him handsomely with those arrows.

Paid for his silence and his distance.

Unfortunately, Roland and his dimples aren't as easy to buy off.

"Can we fish?" he asks, making it clear who he means by "we".

"I haven't fished in many years," she tells him. "Not since I was a girl."

"So you can come with us. Papa is the best."

"Yes, I'm sure he is," she replies as they reach the room where Robin is, of course, standing outside the door waiting (he's actually leaning casually against it, not a worry sparking in his blue eyes), an amused smile on his lips.

"Roland." He nods at Regina. "Regina."

Her eyebrow lifts. "I believe we talked about this."

"Apologies. Your Majesty."

"Look, you can be trained."

"Occasionally."

"Yes, well, would you like to tell me why Roland came looking for me?"

"Haven't a clue," he replies in a way that makes it clear that he does know.

"He says you knew about it. Did you?"

"I knew he wanted to see you and ask you a certain question, but he didn't tell me what exactly the question was. I asked but he wouldn't tell me."

"Need I remind you again that he is just four years old?" she hisses.

"No," Robin chuckles. "You needn't. Roland, ask the Queen your question."

Oblivious to the tension, he asks, "Will you read to me tonight?"

Her mouth all but falls open and for a moment, all Regina can hear is the blood in her ears as her heart pounds with panic and fear and loss and so much grief that it's almost suffocating.

"No," she finally stammers out. "I have to…no, no I can't."

"Oh," he says, his face falling in a way that vaguely resembles what a puppy looks like after it's been thumped. After a moment, he shrugs his shoulders. "That's okay. Goodnight, then."

"Roland -"

He cocks his head curiously at her.

"Sleep well," she says weakly, hot tears prickling her eyes as she sees a look on his face that she knows far too well. Disappointment and sadness and it seems to always be directed towards her and her many mistakes.

But then just like that, Roland smiles in response to her words, and his eyes light up and she remembers just how astonishingly easy it is for children of his age to forgive and to let their darker emotions and theirs pain go.

It changes. It all changes.

Eventually they learn to resent and reject and…

"_I'm your mother."_

"_No, you're not."_

God, don't think about that.

"_You're not a villain, you're my mom."_

No, don't think about that, either.

"Don't ever play that kind of game with me again," she hisses at Robin once the door closes safely behind Roland and his far too innocent heart.

"I don't know what you're -"

"He's your son, not mine. Yours can't replace mine."

Robin holds up his hands in some kind of surrender. "That was neither his intention nor mine. I would never ever assume to even try to do such a despicable thing. Your boy lives in your heart, Regina, and always will. My boy simply prefers the sound of a woman reading as opposed to a man, and the first person he thought about there was you. I swear to you that there was nothing more to it than that."

She regards him for a moment, and then nods. "I thought his mother died when he was very young."

"She did, unfortunately. It's sadly quite unlikely that he will ever have any memory of her voice, but there have been other women that he has known. Do you know of a woman named Mulan?"

She thinks for a moment, and then, "The warrior? You were -"

He chuckles because her implication is clear. "Involved? No. I don't believe she's interested in...me. She was with my Merry Men for a time. She's since returned home to handle a personal issue, but while she was here, she took it upon herself to tell Roland stories, and I think he found her voice quite soothing. You don't share the same kind of voice, but I think he prefers a natural storyteller."

"And what makes you think that I am."

"You've lived far too much life not to be."

Her eyes flicker up towards his, and she finds herself unable to argue.

"Also, instinct, Your Majesty."

She snorts in disgust, quite glad – after that brief moment of emotional uncertainty - to be back on the solid ground of getting to mock him for her absurdly naïve thoughts. "Well, then you have horrific instincts, Archer."

"Do I?"

"You keep letting your son come near me."

"And we keep having this conversation," he volleys. "Perhaps eventually you'll listen to me when I tell you that neither he nor I fear you."

"Perhaps eventually you'll listen when I tell you that you should. Just because you're the only one who knows what happened when we retook the castle does not mean that I will have infinite patience with you."

"You'll have to show me when you start having patience," he chuckles.

She grits her teeth. "I don't have time for this foolishness. Do not let your son get lost again. It's not my responsibility to get him back home to you."

He nods his head, grimly. "Understood. I'll keep him away from you."

She almost protests, almost tells him that that's not what she'd meant by her words, but the truth is that it is, in fact, exactly what she'd meant so instead of putting in a meaningless clarification, simply replies with a sharply delivered, "Yes. See that you do that."

He watches her stride away, her cloak swishing around her and her heels tapping the ground and her head held up high like the Queen she is. All he sees, though, is the deep pain that had seen in her turbulently dark eyes.

So sharp and vivid and heartbreaking.

He thinks of Marian and there's a raw agony that jumps like a nerve in the middle of his chest because even four years later, he still misses her smile.

He's let go and he's willing to move on, but he's had time.

Regina has only memories and regrets and the feel of a young boy's hand.

Part of him desperately wants to follow after her so as to offer to listen and hear her talk (he finds that he likes her voice as much as his son does) but he'll respect her wishes for space and privacy and he'll stay clear.

The hard part will be keeping Roland away.

Roland goes down the hallway towards Regina's room the next night, and reluctantly, the archer follows his son and gently steers him back to their quarters, reminding him in a soft and hushed tone that the Queen is busy right now, and that they're guests in the castle which means they need to be respectful of such things. Roland nods his head like he understands, but Robin knows his boy well enough to spot the disappointment in his eyes.

So he takes Roland back to their room, and he reads to him, and he thinks about a woman with dark eyes and dark thoughts and an even darker past.

He thinks about all the things you lose and never find your way back to.

He thinks that he knows better than to allow himself to get pulled into such things; though she's not the woman of legend to his eyes, to herself she is clearly still the Evil Queen, and just a few weeks ago she her tried to put herself into an eternal sleep so as to prevent her heart from breaking over the loss of her son. She needs help far past what he can possibly offer.

Right?

Yes, right.

Right.

* * *

It's a few weeks long and quite cold weeks later – he's barely seen much of the Queen, who has quite clearly been going out of her way to avoid him, during that entire time - when he finds himself casually leaning up against the wall in one of the oversized banquet rooms, listening to the royals and nobles argue over just how less savory duties should be divided up. He's somewhat surprised that he's being allowed to be in here to listen – King George, whom he had regularly relieved of un-needed funds – keeps throwing icy glares his way, but so far no one has asked him to leave.

So he stays and he listens and he tries to remind himself that this is a new world order and it can't be built on the same class warfare as the old one.

Which means that despite his intense inclination to do so, he can't allow himself to despise those with crowns just because they have them.

Especially considering the fact that he doesn't feel anything of that sort towards the most notorious royal of them all, he thinks as his eyes flicker across Regina's passive and cold face. She's listening to George speak, and Robin thinks that she's either somewhere else completely or she is trying to stop herself from reaching over and magically slapping the hell out of him.

This debate – or well, best to call it what it is which is an argument – has been going on for hours now. Some of the haughty lords and ladies are quite insistent that those of higher-class blood should have the right to abstain from anything that sounds manual or physically difficult in nature.

That one or two of them had apparently worked as plumbers in the curious other world that keeps getting brought up - and this is mentioned, of course by a smirking slightly taunting Regina - gets brushed to the side as though it's of no consequence here. The royals expect special treatment and they have no intention of being pressed back in lower-class labor.

This goes on and on in ridiculous circles until the Queen finally loses her already paper-thin patience and stands up, her hands slamming down flat on the table and her ample bosom dipped down low enough for Robin to almost blush at all that he's not supposed to look at but finds himself unable to resist glancing at as Regina practically vibrates with just barely restrained rage. "Enough of this," she growls out. "We will all need to do our part or all of this will fail and the remaining ogres that weren't driven out will sweep right back in and turn all of us us into splintered toothpicks."

"You have magic," one of the nobles sputters.

"I don't like you," she reminds him with a sneer.

"Regina," Snow says, but she sounds both amused and exasperated. She'd been holding back for the most part – letting Regina and David handle much of the conversation – but she seems to be aware that things have hit the point where Regina is no longer willing to play nice with these fools.

"Papa," Robin suddenly hears from beside him. He turns to see John and Roland standing there, both of them covered in dirt from a long day out.

"Hey, Little Man," Robin whispers. He puts his finger to his mouth to urge silence and then winks at him. Roland grins back at him and falls quiet.

That doesn't stop him from waving over at Regina who gives him an incredulous look that seems to suggest that she can't quite believe that he'd done that before finally offering him a tiny amused smile in return.

When the meeting is over and all that's left is murderous looks from the royals towards Regina and her hissed declaration that they _will_ get off their asses and actually be useful for their first time in their lives or else, he waits for her to approach and she doesn't disappoint, her irritation softening when she sees Roland standing next to his father, waiting patiently for her.

Like he knew she'd come over.

He probably did.

"Roland," she says in that low lovely rumbling voice of her. "What have you been doing all day, dear?" As if to explain her question, she reaches out, and with one of her thumb, rubs at a smudge of dirt on her right cheek.

"Playing in the forest with John and Tuck," Roland announces. "We climbed trees. Well, I climbed trees. They told me not to go to high."

"Some common sense. Who knew that was possible." Her eyes flicker up towards John and she regards him coolly. "He's filthy. So are you."

"My apologies, Your Majesty," John replies sarcastically. "I'll make sure to take a long milk bath before the next time I step into your presence."

"Yes, please see that you exactly that," she answers, her dark eyes dancing mischievously. Then, to Robin, she asks almost lazily, "Did you enjoy that?"

"The meeting?" he clarifies. When she nods, he replies with, "Well aside from your last statement to them, the whole thing reminded me of the ones that I watched my father conduct when I was a young boy. I thought the nobles intolerable, self-involved and pathetically myopic then, too."

"An accurate assessment," she allows with something that almost looks like a degree of respect. She looks down at Roland again and stops herself from attacking another dirt spot on his face. "Dinner will be served shortly," she says finally. "You should all get cleaned up before coming down. He -" she looks right at John with a lifted eyebrow. "Will certainly need extra time."

"She's right, John," Robin grins.

John bites his tongue and simply offers up a thin and unconvincing smile.

"Then I guess we will take our leave," Robin announces. He takes a step, then stops and says, "Will you join us at our table for dinner, perhaps?"

"Oh, I'm afraid that's not possible. I'm the Queen," she reminds him, but there's an uncertain tremor to her voice. "I'm expected to -"

"When it comes to dinner, I believe you can do whatever you'd like," he counters. "Which means that you _can_ have dinner with us."

"She doesn't have to," John puts in.

She looks right at him, then at Roland. "Would you like me to join you?"

He nods and grins and that just about seals the deal even though she knows that she should retreat to her previous line about expectations.

But she doesn't. Instead, she throws one last haughty glance over at John - she finds it almost ridiculously hard not to intentionally irritate him and he clearly feels the same way about her - and then back to Robin. "Very well."

John groans. Robin claps him on the back and laughs.

And Regina just watches and wonders what she's getting herself into.

* * *

Dinner with Robin and his son and his Merry Men at their table is both nice and frighteningly casual and simple (even John is reasonably polite aside from a few muttered half-insults) and that's probably why she beats a hasty retreat as soon as it's over; it'd actually been a good meal and people had been laughing and happy and no one (except John) had been glaring at her.

There'd been no real seething hatred aimed towards her.

She doesn't know what to make of that.

So she excuses herself and tells them she has Queenly things to do.

And Roland thanks her for joining them with deep, deep, deep dimples.

She hopes no one notices how quickly she'd departed.

She's certain that at least one person had.

* * *

She's awoken by the sound of something loudly hammering away on her door. Her immediate impulse is to turn towards an alarm clock that is no longer there or to glance at a watch that she no longer wears. She groans and turns over and remembers that she's the Evil Queen and can curse whomever it is that is waking her up at what is surely an unspeakable hour.

The pounding continues.

She thinks to ignore it, but then she hears his voice.

"Regina," the archer calls out. "Please. I need your help."

She rises and brings a cloak around herself. She's not quite decent for a Queen, but nor is she showing off anymore than her dresses usually do.

She pulls the door open and stares back into Robin's worried eyes.

"What's wrong?" she snaps out at him as she comes to full waking awareness in the blink of an eye. Because she knows that look. Parent to parent, she knows the terrible look that is now creasing his face.

"He's missing," Robin breathes. "He's gone."

"He's not…did he come looking for me?"

"He's not in the hallway. I woke up and went to check on him and I've been through every hallway that there is and John has and…"

She puts a hand on her forearm. "We'll find him," she assures him. "He told me that he's used to getting lost and that you don't worry about it."

"He's my son, Regina. He's all I have left in this world. Of course, I worry."

"I know," she answers, her voice so calm and steady despite the fact that her heart is beating entirely too fast and all she can see in her head are pictures of Henry and all she can remember is the night that he'd gone to Boston to get Emma and she'd been so very terrified and certain – despite Graham's whispered repeated assurances - that something horrible had happened to him. That fear is in her now, but she lies to Robin because he needs her to. "But I'm telling you right now to worry because he will be okay. I promise you that. Now, let me get dressed and wake up the two idiots and then we'll get moving on putting your son back in your arms."

**TBC…**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Thank you for all of the kind words. Enjoy the end of this wee little tale. If you're so interested, I'm **_sgtmac7_ **on Tumblr.

* * *

Her heels crack against the stone floor, and he wonders why she's wearing those now and when she'd had time to put them on, but she's also got on leather pants and she looks just like the Evil Queen and it's all just too much for him right now because Roland is missing and deep in Robin's heart he knows that his son isn't just playing around and hiding from him.

Wherever Roland is right now, Robin knows that he's not there because he'd been playing hide-and-seek with his Papa or with John or with anyone else. He's there because maybe he'd gotten lost or been too brave or because his father hadn't been watching or -

"We will find him," Regina states from behind him. He looks over at her as she approaches, a question on lips, but the words stall when he sees the intensity in her furiously dark eyes.

Like she needs to find Roland as much as he does.

He tries to agree with her, but his heart is suddenly too big for his chest and his tongue feels swollen and so he just nods at her and looks ahead at the far wall, seeing absolutely nothing and hearing only the thundering silence of his futility.

He feels her elegant hand settle lightly on his right forearm then, her warm touch surprisingly gentle. His eyes meet hers, and he cocks his head like he's trying to understand but then she smiles and he thinks she should do that more often because it's beautiful.

"Take a breath," she urges, the rumble of her voice interrupting his thoughts. "I do not promises I don't intend to keep. I promised you that you will not lose your son tonight, and I meant that. You will not lose him."

"I believe you," he manages finally, and he wonders if a person can get lost in eyes as dark and deep as hers. Surely they can.

"Hey!" David calls out suddenly, redirecting Robin to the Prince as he and Snow stride down the hallway towards them, both of them dressed in warm clothing so as to head out into the elements and assist in the search. A flustered looking John and the two werewolf women are right behind them.

"Your Highness," Robin greets, stepping towards him and away from Regina. He can hear the sound of the bitterly cold wind hitting the stone of the castle, just outside of the hall where they all are. "Thank you for -"

"Don't thank us for helping you find your child," Snow insists. "It's what any good person would do." She means the words well, Regina imagines, but all the same, the Queen can't help herself from rolling her eyes.

"That's all very well," Regina states, "But we need to figure out where he's disappeared off to." She looks at Granny and Red. "Will his clothing help you to track him? Even on a night with as much wind as this one has?"

"We can damn well try, but the elements can be a real bitch at times," Granny answers, and normally Regina appreciates the woman's brash kind of honesty, but right night she could tolerate a lie if it meant a bit of hope.

Because there's a beautiful boy with bright eyes somewhere outside of the castle and there are terrible creatures lurking around him.

"What do you have?" Red asks gently, as if she can see the darkness in Regina and knows that they need action right now.

"His cloak," the archer rumbles, holding up the forest green garment. "He was in his night shirt last I saw him. I..." he looks over at Regina, and she sees the look of a man who is blaming himself far more than is probably fair or right, but she knows such feelings well enough to understand that simple well-meaning platitudes will be worthless. "I thought perhaps he went looking for you again. He'd stopped doing it when I told him you were busy but he may have misunderstood dinner tonight to be an invitation to resume."

"He never showed up and he never knocked on my door."

"It's a pretty simple path between your two quarters," Snow notes.

"And he knew it quite well," Regina agrees. "All right, Eugenia, you will come with Robin and I and we'll search the northwestern side of the castle. John, you and your men should take the south side. Charming, you Snow and Red can search the east. Be careful of the cliffs over that way."

"Be careful of the woods over your way," Snow reminds her.

"It's under control," Robin says quietly. Then, to the two werewolves, with a slight tremor in his voice, he asks, "Do I need to cut the cloak in half?"

"No," Eugenia says kindly. "I can remember the smell with just one...well..." she reaches out and takes the cloak from him, inhales deeply and then passes it to Red who brings it to her chest. A much younger werewolf and one who had never fully embraced herself, she still need the scents closer to her, especially in harsh winds like the winds howling about tonight.

"Ready?" Regina asks. Once she gets nods from both of the women, she says, "Then let's get Roland back into bed." She doesn't wait for any further conversation, just turns and heads down the hallway, Robin at her side.

Looks of concern are shared behind her because they all know.

They know that finding this little boy means everything to her.

It might even mean what's left of her broken heart.

* * *

"He's just in his night shirt," Robin says again, unnecessarily. His eyes are wide and worried and try as he might to remember that he's a brave man that's faced down many a threat, he's clearly quite frightened right now.

Because Marian is gone and Roland is all he has left of her and them.

Because Roland is what lives in his heart just as Henry is what lives in hers.

So she smiles at him even though everything inside of her burns and aches and the fear of failing that she feels is almost sophisticating. "When we find him, I can warm him up," she assures him, her voice low. She glances ahead at Granny who is moving quickly and fearlessly through the dense foliage with her newly created crossbow extended out in front of her.

"I never should have be outside of the room on his own," Robin says.

Something cold and ugly twists inside of her gut when he says that because hadn't she warned him about this? Still, she holds her tongue, and says nothing at all, refusing to feed into the dark emotions flooding him.

The ones she understands entirely too well if she's honest with herself.

"Nothing to say to that?" he pushes. "But you agree, don't you?"

Her jaw tightens and her anger flares to the surface. "I told you that you shouldn't have let him wander so yes, of course, I agree with you."

"Yeah, well, were right," he shoots back. "Are you happy now?"

"Do you think this looks like happy to you? Whatever I might think of your questionable parenting skills, I don't want an innocent little boy who should never suffer for the sins of their parent to be harmed in any way."

"I guess that makes two of us, then, doesn't it?" he replies sharply.

She looks over at him, sees the hurt burning in his eyes and something in the middle of her chest surges painfully. She opens her mouth to speak, to maybe pull back words that are truly more about her than him, but before she can even figure out what she could possibly say to make things better, Eugenia jerks up, her spine suddenly straight as a board, eyes wide.

"What is it?" Robin asks, moving towards her. "Have you -"

"Yes, yes I've found him." She points ahead. "Follow me. Closely."

* * *

She's waiting for them when they arrive, grinning maliciously down at the little boy who is sitting on the ground shivering and holding his arms tightly around his own tiny little body. He's so naïve and innocent, but even he knows that there's something very wrong about what's happening here.

Even he knows that Zelena isn't any kind of friend to him.

"Papa," he says, glancing nervously between the Queen that he's come to like and the woman that had been there waiting for him outside the castle.

"Hello, my boy," Robin greets. "I've been worried sick about you." He takes a step forward, a hand extended out as if to coax Roland to come to him.

"Oh, no no. He's been just fine here with me, haven't you, Roland, dear?"

"I'd like to go home now," Roland says.

"Not year, dear," Zelena chuckles.

"How did you get him out here?" Regina growls, stepping in front of father and son. In her peripheral, she sees Granny tense with her crossbow.

"I simply called to him."

"How did your wretched voice -"

"Wicked."

"You're not nearly clever nor as cute as you think you are," Regina retorts.

"Mm. Well, that's entirely questionable. But as for how, my dear little sister, I simply called out his name." She smiles widely then. "In your voice."

Regina pales. "What?"

"He likes you, and when he heard you calling for him, he came running."

"I'm sorry," Roland says, her voice a low whimper of fear.

Regina's eyes close for a moment as she remembers Robin telling her a few weeks earlier that Roland liked her. She'd warned him to keep his boy away from him then and while he had done as she had requested him to, Roland had been safe. When he'd stopped listening…but no, this isn't on Robin.

Yes, the archer had invited him to dine with them.

She could have - should have - declined.

Which means that this is on her.

She growls. "Let the boy go to his father and you can deal with me."

"I want to deal with him," Zelena pouts. "Roland, don't you like playing with me, sweetheart? Aren't we having a good time, yes?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "It's cold. Can I go to my Papa now, please?"

She looks over at Robin. "Such good manners from a simple child. Do you have the same? Show me. Say please. Beg for your son," she directs.

"Please," he replies immediately. "Please let him come to me."

"Say it from your knees."

"No," Regina says immediately. "You want to play your pathetic little inferiority games, you do it with me. You leave all of them alone."

"A werewolf, a thief and a child. Dear me, Regina, you have gone soft."

"I'll be happy to show you just how soft I've gone."

"If I just release the boy?"

Regina smiles, thinly and coldly.

"Hmm. No, I don't think so." She turns towards Roland then, and squeezes her hand and then everything happens all at once - Robin is screaming for his son (and he sounds like his heart is breaking) and Zelena is laughing and Granny is tensing and Roland is gasping and then Regina is surrounded in bright purple and Zelena is falling backwards and towards the trees.

She hears Roland sniffling and trying so very hard not to cry, and she thinks about Henry after his first fall of his bike. Sitting on the floor of their kitchen with skinned knees and a running nose and trying so hard to be brave.

"Get Roland home," Regina instructs as Robin rushes to his son and pulls him into his arms, hugging him fiercely and tightly. "I'll handle this."

"Now's not the time," he replies. "You're not going to defeat the Witch tonight, and though I know these woods well, her creatures are about."

On cue, a monkey screeches nearby. Granny flicks her crossbow towards it, and it crosses Regina's mind that the woman just might start firing away at everything soon. It's hard to blame her but she'd prefer not get shot.

"He's right," Zelena laughs as she stands, bright red blood dripping down her head. "But don't worry, we're just getting started. We'll have plenty more chances to trade blows and slit throats before this is all over, sis."

"Yes, we will," Regina agrees. She then turns her back on Zelena, knowing that it will enrage the woman, but also knowing that as bad of an idea as it is for her to pick a fight with her older sister in these woods, Zelena seems to have understood that for a moment, it's not wise to battle Regina, either.

So she growls loudly and then there's a flash of green and she's gone.

Regina pretends not to notice, refuses to give the wretched woman even that much attention. Instead, she steps close to Roland and places a hand on each cheek, her fingers warm against his cold skin. "Are you all right?" she asks, her voice low and soothing and sounding not at like the Queen.

This is her mom voice, and Henry is smiling as she kisses his scraped knees.

Roland nods his head. "Cold."

"Take a deep breath," she says. "A deep one." She shows him by example, exaggerating the in and out. He follows and giggles as warmth floods him.

"Better," he tells her, grinning back at her.

It's infectious and she answers it despite the fact that she's tired and angry and so very heartbroken. "Good. Now let's get you home and into bed."

At least, she thinks - but can't quite convince - herself, Henry would have been proud of her tonight.

* * *

She studiously and effectively avoids Robin and his son for exactly a week, and he thinks that her absence is probably all about avoiding a conversation that she doesn't want to have. Perhaps one about their argument regarding bad parenting that had occurred between them in the middle of the woods.

Because he knows that it hadn't been about him at all.

He imagines that she does, too.

* * *

He finds her seven days after the incident in the woods in the stables, grooming one of the horses and lost in her own mind, her brushing motions gentle but mechanical. He calls her name but she doesn't hear him so he does it again and then again until he realizes that he's going to just have to take his chance and hope she doesn't light him on fire for startling her.

"Regina," he says softly as he places a gloved hand on her shoulder.

She jumps and yeah, he really does almost get lit up.

But he ducks and weaves and then he's looking up at her from the ground and he simply shrugs his shoulders sheepishly and offers her, "Apologies."

"Are you a complete moron?"

"It's been said," he agrees.

She grunts at that, clearly unimpressed with his blasé approach to almost getting torched. "What were you thinking?" she asks as she extends a hand.

"Now or a week ago? Or ever."

Something flickers in her eyes, but then she answers, "Just now."

"That we should talk about what happened out there in the woods."

"Why?"

"Because I can't imagine that your son would have wanted this."

Her eyes narrow harshly. "And what do you know of my son?"

"Only what Snow and David and the others that knew him in that other world of yours have told me. That he was a bright and curious -"

She turns away from him before saying,"Is. He is a bright and curious boy."

"Is," Robin agrees. "And that he always saw the best in you."

"Not always because I didn't always allow him to see it."

"But when you did -"

She sighs and turns back around to face him. "I know what you're trying to do here, Robin. What I don't know is why. Why do you care how I feel about my son? Or how he felt about me? What does it actually matter to you?"

"I understand loss, Regina," he says. "The kind you never really get over."

Her head tilts. "Your wife."

"Yes. I loved Marian with everything inside of me."

"You seem to be surviving."

"She'd want me to. She'd want me to do it for her and our boy."

"Henry will never see what I'm doing. He'll never know."

Robin steps towards her. "I said once before that he lives in your heart and always will and I meant that. Marian lives in mine and in my boy. As for yours, well he may be lost to you, but there's a part of him somewhere – perhaps buried deeper than imaginable - that knows of what you're doing and if he is anything the boy that I have been told that he is, I think he would be so proud of what you did in the woods a week ago. He would."

"Even the part where I called you -"

"Yes, even that part. You were scared."

She twitches a bit but doesn't deny his words.

"So was I," he continues. "That said, I would prefer you to not call me that again because there is perhaps nothing in this world that means more to me than that little boy and seeing him smile at me every single morning."

"I know the feeling," she replies, and she tries so very hard not to think about lazy Sundays and pancakes and orange juice. "And I'm...I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted, Your Majesty."

She sighs dramatically.

"What?"

"I suppose that you may call me...you may call me Regina."

"Fantastic. Then, Regina, would you care to take a ride with me? I have need to pick up some supplies from our old camp in Sherwood and I would quite enjoy having you a partner for the trip. If you can keep up, that is?"

Her caramel eyes narrow at the challenge. "I think you mean if you can."

He smiles, the lines around his eyes deepening. "We shall see."

* * *

She sees Roland out by the trees with Little John on her way back to the castle that evening; Robin is still unpacking all of the supplies that they'd gathered during their surprisingly enjoyable ride together, and right now all she can think about is dipping herself into a hot bath (she'll draw it herself, she thinks) and soothing some of the soreness away. It's been a long time since she's ridden like that and though it'd been wonderful, she's tired.

But then Roland spots her and his eyes light up and he jumps down and into John's arms and then onto the ground.

"Regina," he calls out.

Suddenly, thoughts of the bath are far away from her.

"Hello, Roland-Who-Is-Almost-Five," she greets.

He laughs. "Did you see me in the tree? Did you see how high I was?"

"I did." She looks over at John and lifts an eyebrow. He rolls his eyes.

"You should climb with me."

"You should," John says. "In one of your dresses, even."

"Jealous, dear? Wish you could wear it as well as I do?"

His mouth falls open.

"Yes, I thought so. You might want to close that. Air isn't food."

"Are you two arguing?" Roland asks, frowning at both of them."

"No, we're not. I think we're actually getting along, aren't we, John?"

"Of course, Your Majesty. We're the very best of friends."

"Excellent. Then, Best Friend, why don't you head down to the stables. I believe Roland's papa could some help with supplies we brought back."

"And Roland?" John asks, looking suddenly very wary and uncertain.

"Will be coming with me."

"Oh, I don't -"

She cocks her head to the side in curiosity, and he does the same. They challenge each other for a moment and it might be hilarious if she wasn't packing a thousand volts of magical energy within her little pinky.

"He's perfectly safe with me," she assures him, her voice oddly quiet.

"Fine," he agrees. "Roland, are you okay with going with the Queen?"

He nods his head happily, his dimples deepening impossibly.

"Then it is decided. Tell Robin he can find me in my personal library."

* * *

"This is spectacular," he says as he enters the library, his eyes sweeping around to take in all of the hundreds and hundreds of hardback books. stacked along the walls. "You couldn't possibly have read them all."

"Not remotely," she admits as she stands up. "But it's a quiet place."

"I think Belle would quite agree."

"I'm not sure that she's anywhere else during her waking hours," she admits. "I presume since you're here that John passed along the message?"

"He did. As well as your insults. You two are going to have to learn to get along. Which means that you need to stop antagonizing him intentionally."

"Me? And did he really tell on me?" She snorts in disgust.

"He did, and try the innocent act with someone else. Remember I was there when the first thing that you said to him was to insult his eating habits."

"I would have thought that those living off the land would be slimming."

"See?"

"Right. Anyway, Roland is napping over there. We had a busy afternoon."

"Even after our ride?"

"He asked for a story again."

"Oh. I'm...sorry?"

"Don't be. I told him one."

"Can I ask what it was?"

"It was of a prince from a faraway land and his many adventures."

"Ah," Robin says gently. "I'm sure he quite enjoyed it."

"He asked me to tell him more of the prince. Another time."

"And will you?"

"Possibly," she says. "But for now, I return him to you. My bath awaits."

"Enjoy," he says, offering an amused smirk.

She rolls her eyes, and then steps towards the door.

"And perhaps when you're done relaxing, you'll consider dining with us again. This time without running out like you've seen a ghost."

She closes her eyes for a moment. "Maybe when I stop seeing them, I will."

"Fair enough, but the invitation stands indefinitely. We – my son and I - would be delighted to have your company whenever you see fit to join us."

She looks at him for a moment, looks hard and deep and searches for trickery or lies or some kind of manipulation but all she sees is honesty.

"Thank you," she says, and then exits the library, the door open behind her.

He smiles to himself, and thinks about hard headed beautiful queens and how this one had seemed so free when the wind had been whipping at her back and she'd been urging her horse on and on. He thinks of the gleeful sounds she'd made, so young and free of all of the dark and ugly shadows.

He finds himself hoping that he'll get to see that freedom again.

For now, though, there's just this. So bending low, he lifts his sleeping son into his arms, pulls him to his chest, kisses his hair and then leads him home.

**-Fin**


End file.
